


Sweet

by tigersilver



Category: Kyou Kara Maou!
Genre: Fluff and Smut, M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-04-16
Updated: 2018-04-16
Packaged: 2019-04-23 14:39:44
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 749
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/14334639
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/tigersilver/pseuds/tigersilver
Summary: Old fic, new place.Sex as food metaphor, perhaps.





	Sweet

“Yuuri.”

 

“Hmmm?”

 

“Are you ready yet? Do you need help?”

 

“Um,” a neatly combed black head nodded. “I can never tie these things, Wolf-chan. Am I an idiot?”

 

The splendidly attired blonde rose gracefully from his lounging pose on their bed and came up to the young Maou standing before the beveled floor-length mirror, chucking softly.

 

“No…” He paused, examining the damage, and then brought agile fingers to the ready, untying the gruesome knot Yuuri had made in his black silk cravat and carefully retying it properly.  

 

“Not always.”

 

He was punished, of course. A stern-faced Maou grabbed him by the shoulders and swung him into the wall, untied black hair flying in disarray with the sudden motion. A black-suited leg was shoved between the blonde’s thighs and Shibuya Wolfram was kissed ruthlessly and relentlessly, strong fingers sliding through his mane to disrupt its careful coiffing, controlling him when he struggled for that brief moment before desire clawed its way up his heaving chest. It took a determined Yuuri one more moment only to strip the blue satin coat from Wolf’s shoulders, to bite off the fashionable pearl buttons with strong white teeth.  Matte black and shiny blue trousers were hastily undone amidst the sounds of mutual groaning and ebony thongs were hurriedly shimmied down sweat-damp hips.

 

One quick fumble of saliva-laden fingers and Wolfram was arched against the wall, panting, and frantically trying to wrap one long pale leg around Yuuri’s waist in reaction.

 

They were hampered by the fabric sagging around the blonde’s knees, but that didn’t stop them. Neither did the lateness of the hour or the fact that dinner was waiting. They were hungry only for each other – starving and crazed with desire.

 

One thrust…and two…and the lovers were in frantic motion, surging against one another, grasping, gasping open-mouthed, feasting. Yuuri nibbled throat and chin and brow, sucked lovingly on pale, fragrant strands of wheaten silk and the tiny mounds of flesh that blushed so coyly at the base of his lover’s ears. Wolfram sunk desperate fingers into Yuuri’s broad shoulders and met the lips that pressed repeatedly against his face and neck and hairline when he could, raggedly moaning his new husband’s name over and over in a tormented whine. 

 

It was sweet, like a buffet of desserts after years and years of meat-and-potatoes-only. Heady, like vintage champagne poured over hot-house ripened strawberries. Intoxicating, spell-binding, enchanting –  dark chocolate and Chantilly cream, rich  _ganache_  stuffed between the thinnest, butteriest layers of puffed French pastry in existence, spilling custard and ripe berries and brandied cherries everywhere.

 

Like dessert, it never fully satisfied, but instead left endless cravings for  _more_  and  _harder_  in its confectionary sugar-dusted wake. Yuuri sank his tongue into the spearminty hollow where Wolfram’s worked furiously to meet him and ate and ate, devouring, his hips mirroring the plundering motions with quick and easy movements – the practiced fever of the glutton, who knew no other sustenance than his lover’s willing lips.

 

Fused, they rocked and slammed into cold stone alternately, plunging deep into the hidden recesses of each other, until Yuuri’s wide palm found Wolfram’s privates, coated and glistening with precum like clear candy-coating on deceptively hardened milk-white marzipan. Lips locked together as if there’d be no tomorrow - no meals after this one – and Yuuri’s fingers milked Wolfram dry in a moment, sending the blonde shuddering into exhaustion and delight.

 

One thrust…two, and Yuuri filled his lover with all the very best of his essence, frothed up and heated to scalding by two young bodies still whipping and colliding together with steely mechanical speed. It gushed and spewed, mixed Devonshire cream and melted white chocolate, and Wolfram moaned thankfully as his hunger was finally satisfied and licked dry lips as he gratefully sipped the humid air between them. Yuuri slumped against his lovely new husband, a soufflé fallen in the center, and thanked the gods and Shinou he’d been granted heaven without dying first.

 

The post-coital pillow mints were nibbled in the bath, along with nips of damp skin and playful licks of raspberry nipples and ripe swollen lips. A message was eventually sent down to the people patiently awaiting the Maou and his Consort, asking them to please go ahead with dinner, and Yuuri and Wolfram moved their private picnic to the bounteous bed.

 

“Newlyweds!” sighed the gathered friends and relatives, smiling and blushing, and moved on to the dessert course, for they hadn’t waited dinner once this particular week.

 

 


End file.
